


It's the Great Pumpkin, Will Graham!

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Series: American Dreamers [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Abigail, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hannibal Being Good At everything, Hannictober, M/M, Pumpkin carving, halloween fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 01:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: A fluff-filled look into the lives of the Lecter-Graham family carving their first pumpkin. Complete with baby Abigail and daddy Will and papa Hannibal.Hannictober Piece, although its considerably less dark than most I have seen.Set in the "What You'd Find Buried" timeline





	It's the Great Pumpkin, Will Graham!

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired and spent the whole weekend working with pumpkins. This was the result, I hope you enjoy! As always, please R and R, let me know what you think!

“Pumpy!” Abigail clapped, bouncing on Hannibal’s knee. She reached out, pressing her hand over one of the rounded sections of the gourd, slapping it after a moment, liking the noise.

“What would you like Papa to carve, little one?” Hannibal pressed his nose into the side of her hair, making her giggle.

“Pumpy!” She repeated, smacking the pumpkin for good measure. Hannibal laughed, tickling her until she giggle loudly, almost shrieking.

“Perhaps I should ask daddy.”

“Daddy!” Will looked over from his vantage point on the other side of the table, where ‘pumpys’ guts lay out on the New York Times that Hannibal had only lamented the loss of until Abigail had discovered how much fun the seeds were to play with and had ended up completely covered,, meriting a bath before they had reconvened to carve the pumpkin. She reached out her arms, and Will wanted to laugh at the slight look of betrayal on Hannibal’s face as he handed her over. At least it would allow him to use the scalpel as he wanted.

“We better pick something, Abby, or Papa will try to carve a Boticelli.”

“I know when I’ve been insulted.”  Hannibal snorted, but Will could tell he wasn’t upset. Rather, he seemed to be regarding the pumpkin with his own vision in mind. Will took it upon himself to play with Abby, knowing that Hannibal would set to work with his scalpel. Only a few minutes later, and his thoughts came true as Hannibal began to carve into the fruit.

“Do you recall when we went to the pumpkin patch?” Hannibal asked him after a moment as Abigail fascinated herself with Will's shirt buttons, only repeating pumpy in a soft, distracted voice.

“You gave me five dollars so I could get a pumpkin.”

“I don’t know where you have gotten your information, William.” Hannibal said, prying a triangle out of his pumpkin front, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Papa is lying, Abby.” Will said, and Abigail looked up at him, distracted from her game by his grave tone.

“Well, even if I had done such a thing,” Hannibal said in a faux haughty tone, “I was only repaid by having a dog jump on me when it was finished playing with your father, Abigail.”

“Papa doesn’t like people thinking he’s a nice person, Abigail. It makes him less intimidating.”

“Papa.” Abigail said, frowning to mimic Will’s face.

“Silly Papa.” Will agreed, and couldn’t hide his own laugh as Hannibal tried to hide his.

“Is your father still coming over later?” Hannibal asked, more chunks and thin slivers of pumpkin falling away as he got deeper and deeper into his design. “He seemed rather excited that we were carving pumpkins.”

“He told me he’s going to start growing his own next year.” Will said, “Kathy did not seem enthused since he's already using most of the yard for tomatoes. And he’s coming over tomorrow, when Bedelia comes by.”

They settled into a bit of quiet as Abigail started to drift off into her nap, laying her head on Will’s old, soft jacket as Hannibal hummed through his work. Will thought about that trip so long ago, how he hadn’t realized until fourth grade that Hannibal had been the one to give him the money. How he had never thanked him or even mentioned it until now. How he kept he framed picture of them trick or treating that Hannibal had given him in his office at work and he would look at it when things got too much.

“Can I ask what you’re carving?” Will said finally, patting Abby on the back as she finally fell asleep on his arm, head nestled against his shoulder.

“That would ruin the surprise, I’m afraid. And Pumpy has gone through a lot to ensure the piece's excellence, we must honor its sacrifice.” Will snorted, standing up to lay Abigail down in her crib, taking care not to walk behind Hannibal lest he be accused of trying to peek.

She stirred slightly, but stayed sleeping as he laid her down, and he made his way back down the stairs, listening to Hannibal’s voice that had gone from humming to singing softly. It was in a language Will couldn’t place, either Italian and Spanish, but he liked the sound of it.

“We have a problem,” Will said, and Hannibal glanced up at him over the top of the pumpkin.

“What would that be?”

“Well, I wanted to kiss my husband, but I’m not allowed to look at his pumpkin.”

“I assure you, Will, you may look at my pumpkin anytime you wish.” Will wasn’t even sure what the innuendo was, but it still made his ears redden in a dark blush. “I am almost done, either way.”

Will stepped over, taking care to close his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Hannibal as best he could in the chair. “I’m not looking,” He said, and pressed a kiss to his neck, rubbing his stubble along Hannibal’s jaw.

“I don’t know that Abigail’s nap will be long enough for this, Will.” Hannibal chuckled gently.

“Why did you stop singing?” He asked, moving his mouth to Hannibal’s ear to press a kiss there.

“I was thoroughly distracted.” Hannibal said, and Will heard the scalpel be set down on the table a split second before Hannibal’s arm wrapped around him, pulling Will onto his lap and against his lips in the same motion, the kitchen chair groaning slightly under their joint weight.

Will threaded a hand through Hannibal’s longer hair, tugging slightly at the soft strands as he pulled him closer. He pulled back though, even as Hannibal pulled him tighter against him, “Is the pumpkin done?”

Hannibal laughed, and Will opened his eyes to his soft maroon eyes looking at him. “Yes.” Will turned, feeling almost like a child. His father had carved pumpkins with an old fish fillet knife, and even their happy Jack O’ Lanterns had looked slightly terrifying and very uneven until they had finally given up and put up pictures of pumpkins in an effort to encourage instead of frightening visitors.

“It’s beautiful.” Will felt slight tears come to his eyes, not expecting what he was seeing in front of him. It was clearly the three of them, a scene that had happened only a couple of days earlier when Hannibal was insisted on raking and that had lasted all of ten minutes before Will and Abigail had leapt straight into his pile and blown the leaves everywhere. There was a little carved him, holding Abigail as he laid in a pile of carefully carved leaves and there was Hannibal with his rake, watching them from next to a background tree.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“You’ll have to let me know.” Hannibal said against his temple, before Will felt a pair of arms come under him, one under his back and another under his legs as Hannibal lifted him out of the chair.

Will laughed at the feeling and kept his eyes on the pumpkin for another minute, almost wanting to reach out his fingertips and feel along the smooth groves and straight cuts. But Hannibal, in his usual way, was suitably distracting, and instead of trailing his fingers over the pumpkin, he found himself tugging at the quarter zipper on Hannibal’s sweater and pulling him closer instead.

 


End file.
